SER BEDIVERE

Serafina Donovan. Knight of the Round. King Arthur's Spymaster.

[serafinadonovan]

wyntertor​:

*

Although it is a fearsome sight to see a king execute his knight, a rank that she is considered among. She tries to steady herself, she knows the cards that Ser Bedivere can play. That she is Arthur’s trusted spymaster, that Tor is of their inner council and can’t afford to lose her position because she loses face. If there was ever a knight who could be Wynter’s downfall was another human, a bard who knew how to act and forgot how not too. This was King Arthur, a man that was her job to lay her life down for. It was what they had all been ceremoniously invited into, it was a life of honor and one where she would die to serve the throne.

She had seen many men die, on the battlefield and in the depths of war but it never got easier, even when she prayed to receive a harder stomach for it, a heart that could shoulder the losses easier,  it didn’t matter that she was workstrong and steadfast. Each set of hollow eyes that stared upwards haunted her mind when she closed her eyes at night, and now the eyes of Ser Brunor were amplified in her head, a specter that had followed her from the throne room and didn’t seem to find rest. A gnawing creeping fear that the unrest within the kingdom could spell all their ends. It was Wynter’s choice to decide what she would die for and she had taken a deep vow to King Arthur, to be his knight at the round table.

She drops the cloth that displays the Pendragon crest on her chest and nods, straightens her shoulders and lifts her head high. Resembling the nobility blood that was within her veins, even as it was murky. “You’re right. We have to always trust in the throne. It is hard to lose one who sat among us at the table but it is more important to serve Arthur.” A small smile flickers upon her face and she is never one to let something go. “A cult? What do you speak of?”

---

Serafina relaxed a bit as Wynter seemed to calm. Even so, she kept her guard up, wondering just how much of her words Wynter actually meant. As someone who was always acting, who didn't know how to do otherwise, she frequently found herself suspecting others of doing the same. It was a difficult way to live; of course, Serafina didn't know anything else.

But she wouldn't let that suspicion show. Instead, she let her hand shift down to Wynter's arm. "There you are," she expression warming. "I know, it was quite a shock. I don't think anyone anticipated such a scene. But you cannot let that shock take over your senses. The king acted with a clear mind and a fair heart." Clear mind. That was one lie difficult even for the most skilled of liars to pull off smoothly.

She glanced over her shoulder, as if to make sure that no one was listening. This was one rumor, though, that she wouldn't mind spreading. If only to help more people understand why Arthur had acted the way he had. "Now, I don’t want word of this getting out, but I received word not long ago that Ser Brunor had fallen in with a very dangerous group of druids that don't follow Merlin. I believe that they pose a real threat to King Arthur's life. So...perhaps he really was conspiring to poison the king. And even if he wasn't tonight, I think he would have soon."

[serafinadonovan]

efabeckett​:

*

Efa drifted through the crowds of revelers, her mask with its azure and emerald feathers secured tight. She was a girl stitched of anxieties, she didn’t trust the fairies that were around them. She feared they would reveal her true face without needing a mirror or would take the form of the human girl she had been swapped with, a ghost that she had never known so she took all the measures necessary to keep her secrets. She had left her father sleeping by the roaring hearth, a blanket draped over his lap and their doorway had food and drink laid out before it so the fairies would pass by their house unharmed. She didn’t care if there was a mess to clean up the next day, as the fairies were not known for their table manners. She couldn’t avoid Samhain as there was no just reason to and an unexplained absence might bring more attention than she desired.

Bonfires burned through the streets and she avoided any embers that might fly from the fire, not wishing for singed holes in the borrowed gown from the general stores shelves. She wandered in and out of rooms where the celebration of Samhain raged on until she found herself in an alehouse and stayed to keep warm. A performer with a knack for storytelling as she sang and played the lute stood on top of one of the tables, commending the crowds attention and the whole room was awestruck. Efa appreciated a distraction that would bring her out of her own head and as the show went on, she found herself more enthralled.

She purchased herself ale while the bard continued, there was no room to step away so she remained by the bar side until the crowd parted more between performers. As the bard stepped down from the table, she was about to take her leave when they had appeared by the barkeep to order a drink and had subsequently spilt hers by mistake. “It is nothing to be worried about, the fairies are out causing enough havoc. Pay it no mind, I’d love to buy you a drink for entertaining us.”

---

"Oh," Serafina laughed, expression turning almost bashful. An act, of course; she had no issue taking compliments, and she knew exactly how great of a performer she was. But shying away from them tended to endear people to her more than arrogance. "Please, that was nothing. I love to perform, and it's nice to see people in such high spirits."

She looked to the crowd briefly. Anything to distract them from the growing unrest; plus, she was able to promote King Arthur in the process. Her attention returned to the younger woman soon enough, though. "I can hardly let you buy my drink after putting you out one, at least. Perhaps we can both stick to buying our own drinks for the time being. But if you change your mind, my offer stands."

She turned away from her long enough to catch the bartender's attention and finally order herself some ale. As she set her lute on the floor and leaned against the bar, she glanced to the young woman once again. She doubted she really needed to introduce herself, but even so, she said, "It's Bedivere, by the way. You enjoyed my performance, then?"

[serafinadonovan]

hellwalker-tors​:

Tors stood in silence, letting her words sink in.  His jaw set, his right hand flexed like he was about to reach for his sword.  A sword that was no where near him, along with his armor.  ‘Even if I had my sword…Would I be able to kill her?’ He thought, looking over Serafina like he was sizing her up.  Truth be told, he was in no condition to fight.  Even if he had the control over the wolf, he doubted he had the strength to summon it now.  

“Or, we could let this be our little secret,” Tors forced a toothy smile, “I’m sure I could make it worth your while.  Just give me a name, and I’ll bring you their head.” Tors was never good at bargaining with his words, he always depended on his blade to do the negotiating for him.  “The Caerwyns may kill me if they find out.  Do you think its wise to kill one of the King’s strongest warriors at a time like this?” 

---

Serafina pressed her lips together. Despite the circumstances, she had to fight an urge to laugh at the werewolf's blunt attempt at negotiation. But his next words had any trace of amusement fading from her expression. He was correct, after all. The king needed as many loyal soldiers as he could get. In better times, she wouldn't hesitate to alert the Caerwyns and garner their favor. But with popular opinion turning against Arthur, perhaps it was better to keep the general alive after all.

She took a step forward, watching Tors for any sudden movements. She had her sword in its scabbard at her side, and she wouldn't hesitate to draw it if she sensed that Tors was planning to attack. But she hardly wanted to resort to violence. "I'm sure you can make it worth my while," she agreed. "But who's to say that I need a head? We're in a time of peace, dear. And besides, if I did need a head, surely I could get it myself. Do you think I'm not capable? No, I don't think one head would do." A few dozen, maybe. Her lip curled into a pout. "...But I do respect your loyalty to the King," she admitted. "I have no interest in killing his warriors, werewolves or otherwise. So perhaps we can arrange something after all. There have been some dangerous creatures in Camelot, giving me trouble. A kelpie, in particular. Maybe, if you deal with that, I could reevaluate."

[serafinadonovan]

wyntertor​:

@avalcnstarters​​

It’s an unexpected end ​to the feast, a druid is pulled before them and Gwydre is too blood thirsty, too delighted at the idea of an assassin among them that he won’t even stop to consider innocence. The druid’s face is painted with fear and there is not a flicker of recognition within his features, only dread, confusion and deep horror. When Ser Brunor speaks, it is a breath of relief from within her own lungs. He speaks before she has a chance too, acting in bravery and honor and defending Doyle ó Murchadha when he is not able to defend himself. Surely, the king will take reason and to not follow through with killing one of his own knights.

Only they are proven horribly wrong, the crowd surges forward and Wynter is within them. Trying to stop a wicked end to a good life. Ser Brunor’s head rolls towards them and his form falls slack, blood staining the stone floor and his life is gone as his eyes stare blankly heavenward. She cannot speak or move, frozen in horror at the acts that had been committed. When she is capable of acting again, she flees and follows the commandment to get gone.

Collapsing like a thunderclap, her back meets the stone castle wall and she is desperately clawing at herself to get the chainmail off. At that moment, she does not wish to carry the Pendragon crest. If he was willing to kill his knights for defending innocence, what is to come of them? Horrified eyes meet the form of the person who has rounded the corner. “How could he do that?” Even if those were the promised consequences.

---

Even knowing what she knew and even trusting Arthur as much as she did, the scene during the feast shocked her. Arthur slaughtering a knight, a dear friend to many on the Round Table, in front of all of them. Right thing to do or not, Arthur didn't have the political stability for such brash acts. If it turned her stomach, she feared to think what it might do to those less loyal.

She slipped out of the room as soon as she got the chance. Shock gave way to frustration and anger at Arthur, for being so reckless. Though she knew it wasn't his fault. If anything, it was hers. She and Guinevere alone knew the true extent of his sickness, and yet they insisted on him being at the festivities, in an effort to make him seem healthier than he was. They should have known something like this would happen.

She had little time to dwell on it, though, not when she nearly ran headlong into another panicking knight. Her eyes widened, and then her expression softened. She placed a hand on Wynter's shoulder. "Ser Tor. Stop that. Breathe." In a soft voice, barely audible as people flooded out of the feast, she said, "You must have more faith in our king. This wasn't mindless bloodshed. I have reason to believe that Ser Brunor had fallen in with a dangerous cult. Whether the young druid boy was guilty of what he was accused of or not, Brunor himself was plotting against the king. What Arthur did was just, as ever, even if it was...rather public."

[serafinadonovan]

ser-yaroslava​:

@serafinadonovan​

Yaroslava spotted the other knight earlier in the day and had simply ignored her. The Oíche Shamhna was already something she didn’t want to deal with, no need to add another thorn to her side. There was something about her fellow Ser that grated heavily on Yaroslava’s nerves. Serafina had this air about her, something akin to arrogance. As if she knew everything that happened within the walls of Camelot. That likely stemmed from her title as spymaster.

With the king’s absence growing more and more obvious, Yaroslava decided to see if perhaps the spymaster had spoken to him before he’d vanished. “Has the king spoken to your since the lighting of the bonfire?” She asked, keeping her usual harsh tone down. “Or at least seen him?” His health was likely his reason for not partaking as usual, but it was unusual for him to not at least try to be seen around. If even for a moment.

---

"Good evening to you too, Yaro." Serafina greeted the other knight with a warm smile, one that concealed her exhaustion perfectly. She was well-aware that Yaroslava didn't like her, but she had a policy of treating even her worst enemies like dear friends. It left them uncertain of her next moves, which was exactly how she liked it.

Still, even Serafina's best mask couldn't fully survive Yaroslava's line of question. The corners of her lips turned down, and there was a hint of impatience in her voice as she began, "He's the king, he's busy —"

But her fellow knight deserved better than excuses. She sighed and shook her head, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that they were truly alone. In a low voice, she admitted, "We met once during Samhain, but he has refused to meet with me or, as far as I know, anyone, since the feast. Guinevere has taken over most of the day-to-day activities of the throne, with myself assisting."

She clasped her hands in front of her, expression turning sorrowful, rare and genuine. Softly, she admitted what everyone knew but what she had refused to say aloud. He was her closest friend, after all. "He's very ill, Yaroslava. I've had every physician I trust see him, but..." She shook her head. "I'm not sure what we can do. And I am only saying this because you're a knight who I trust. I hope that's not misplaced."

[serafinadonovan]

llcrcan​:

++

The thought of working for the kingdom again was something that hadn’t crossed his mind after returning to Camelot; he had figured that no one would still be around who remembered him. Gone for far too long, his reputation barely hanging on. But here was Sarafina, smiling and jesting with him as though he’d been barely gone two days. Somehow he knew that the knight wouldn’t leave Camelot; she was like the roots that grounded the city - back when Arthur was healthy they were practically attached at the hip. Maybe it wasn’t such a wild idea that she could help him rise back in the ranks. Even with his current affliction. He couldn’t admit to her that he wasn’t human anymore. He smiled back at her, toothy - a little force hiding it behind his own drink. And he absolutely wouldn’t tell her he was homeless.

“If you would, that would mean a lot to me. Those physicians don’t know what they’re doing,” which was more or less true, many of the doctors in the city he knew and knew their tactics of blood-letting for every ailment. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it soon after, about to admit he had fallen on hard times but thought better of it. “I’ll be fine if you can’t get me in - but boy would I be grateful. I’d really be in your debt.” finishing off his drink, he looked around at the rowdy folks pre-celebrating the festivities. “I’m sure the festival will go great. These people are far too stupid to do anything drastic - you’ll just have to worry about the fae.”

---

Serafina nodded at Lorcán. "Anything for an old friend," she agreed, as if she was the one doing him a favor. What she didn't mention was that she'd had every doctor that she could trust in to see King Arthur, to see if there was anything that could be done to restore his mind. That she was quickly running out of doctors that she could trust, and that every remedy she'd attempted had been completely ineffective. That she was desperate for anyone who might help him. "I'll see what I can do."

Lorcán steered the conversation back to the festival, and she was more than happy to follow his lead. "Now, don't go disparaging the people of Camelot in front of me," she chided, as if she hadn't done the same a hundred times before. She spared him a quick, sly smile. Softly, she mused, "Some of them are too smart for their own good. It's better to have them drinking and celebrating."

She cleared her throat. She didn’t want anyone overhearing Avalon’s beloved bard saying such rude things about them, hinting at the insurrections currently threatening Camelot. So she moved on, asking, “But are you enjoying your Samhain, at least?”

[serafinadonovan]

hellwalker-tors​:

for @serafinadonovan

Cursed to become an animal, forever stalking the moonlit night.  That was now his reality.  He had no memory of the time that has passed during the hours he spent as a wolf.  The primitive side of his mind, something concealed underneath overlaying ego and self, had taken control. The sun had recently risen and the skin of the wolf had begun to shed, his humanity — whatever shreds were left of it—was returning.  Golden beams of light danced upon a stream, surprisingly clear in spite of being so near to the castle.  This portrait of serenity was ruined by the sounds of bones breaking, rearranging themselves as Tors drug himself out of the surrounding brush, coming to stand on two feet.  His senses were still too sharp.  It was so bright, he shielded his eyes with his forearm, blood was all he could taste.  He caught a glimpse of his hands, fingernails darkened with dirt and dried blood.  What the hell did I do this time? He thought, inspecting open palms.  

He looked up when he heard the leaves rustle near to him, flinching with surprise when he saw another person standing there. “Just going for a swim,” He mumbled tiredly, casting his gaze upon the stream.  The water was frigid this time of year. What a peculiar sight: a nude man covered in old scars, streaked in blood. Tors was not sure how much she had seen, how long she had been standing there.  He felt numb, emotion felt like something far away, like his mind was still reorienting itself. Like it was yet to dawn on him just how fucked he was.

---

Serafina had only gone out into the forest to get some fresh air and put some distance between herself and the castle. Perhaps she should have known better, than to enter the forest just after a full moon. Or perhaps it had been a stroke of genius, given what she saw.

When she spotted the creature shifting back, she crouched behind a bush. She didn't need to be attacked by a werewolf. She should have simply run away. But she’d never seen a werewolf transform up close before, and she found herself transfixed. It was a hideous thing - and then, slowly, it became a man. Once he had fully turned back and she got a look at him, she realized the man was no stranger to her. He was a general in the Caerwyn army. Knowing the Caerwyns, she deduced there was no way they knew of their general’s furry little secret. A terrible idea seized her. She stepped out into the open.

She looked him up and down, slowly, deliberately. His nudity didn’t seem to faze her. Then, she met his eyes. "General," she said, voice soft, as if she didn't want to be overheard. "You know I should report you to House Caerwyn. As a fellow noble, it would be my responsibility."

[serafinadonovan]

caspermacanghoill​:

location: the jester’s court theatre, outside  starter for: @serafinadonovan​

Casper shouldn’t at all be surprised by the sudden appearance of the Donovan out of the corner of his eye, but a sinking feeling within him takes over nonetheless and tries to forget about the nagging irritation that one of their heirs would have probably rather had him stayed unconscious in the marshes that night. No matter, a cheshire grin tugs at the edges of his lips as he continues to address the gathering crowd. They had all come here to see a show and a spectacular one he would give them indeed. He had spent months exhausting all efforts in assurance that the night would bring amusement to all races within the Kingdom. “Welcome all to the Jester’s Court Theatre! Inside we have quite the series of performances, with fresh hymns and stories that aren’t just found on the main stage— but out here with all of you fine folk!” He continues on as the broadening crowd shrieks with excitement and bellows at the strigoi on the stage. Before long, he wraps up his speech and removes himself from the fold, allowing for the real show to truly begin. But that hardly meant he had forgotten about the individual within the bustling herd that had peaked his interest in the first place, quickly making his way next to her before she could ultimately sneak off again, “Good to see such support as yours within the audience, have you been enjoying yourself so far?”

---

Serafina stood at the edge of the crowd surrounding the stage, arms crossed as she watched the strigoi on stage. Her expression was kept carefully neutral, betraying neither approval nor disapproval. A perfectly crafted mask.

She hadn't planned to stick around long after Casper left the stage; she was busy, even when the rest of Camelot was celebrating. But Casper caught her before she could leave, so she turned a charming smile on her fellow Seascann noble. If his family could really be called noble at all. She turned and pulled him into a hug, with all the warmth and kindness that Sera was known for in the public eye; all entirely an act, as Casper would well know.

"Oh, it's lovely to see you, Casper. And your little theater is just wonderful, I'm having a great time." The theater was nice — and anything to keep the members of the other Seascann families occupied with something other than politics. "And of course, you know I'm always glad to support the arts. How are you doing, are you well?" Could he even be unwell anymore?

[serafinadonovan]

ofiseult​:

House calls of this nature aren’t often in his repertoire. The sellsword is more used to scaling walls, stealing through windows— but so rarely does he knock on a door. Such a formal calling— it almost feels undignified. But the exception could always be made for Ser Bedivere. A vague smile slouches across their lips and they step inside, hands clasped behind their back in a more proper fashion (restlessly, as they’re more accustomed to resting on a hilt, or hooked by the thumb through a belt).

“Come now,” Iseult assures her, “you think I’d turn up empty handed?” He takes a seat where it’s offered and begins. The usual order, Bedivere had asked for the common quarters’ temperatures toward the king, any stirrings that might arise during Samhain. “I’m sure it won’t surprise you that tensions still simmer on the streets. There was a brawl in the square not two nights ago,” he relays the details succinctly, but sparing no detail. The motions were this: a supporter of the crown too steeped in the drink took to blows with a druid. The scrap that’d ensued was public. Vocal. And reflected quite poorly on the king’s lot (a detail Iseult minds to mask his amusement with). While it hadn’t been a knight of the round, any man swinging fists in an establishment in Arthur’s name, well— Ser Bedivere knew the power that had in the public eye.

Eventually, they finish their report with rumors of the upcoming festival. “They’re unsettled by the lack of lip service we’ve gotten from Our King,“ improper of him to phrase it as such, of course, but beyond the coin? The price clients paid for the sellsword’s skill was his impetuous tongue. "Forgive me for my lack of regard, Ser. But you’ll find at every corner the whispers sound quite the same: where is his majesty? We’ve seen him at the lighting of the fires, and then,” they pantomime a vanishing mist. “Nothing. And you and I both know,” they lean forward on the arm of the chair, “there’s no quicker kindling than a people who feel they’ve been abandoned. I don’t suppose you’d be able to illuminate?”

---

Serafina didn't bother to hide her irritation with Iseult's news. It was good information - Iseult's always was - but terrible news. She nodded. "Well, thank you for conveying that," she said, tone indicating she wished they hadn't. She didn't, of course; this was what she'd hired them for. But their reports only ever seemed to make her job more difficult. Was it so much to ask for, that they could have peace and order in Camelot? Even then, she wouldn't be happy.

"The Crown will ensure that the man who attacked the druid is punished," she said. Of course, not in any substantial way, or they'd upset the king's supporters and risk alienating them. Just enough to keep the druids from starting some sort of insurrection, because that was truly the last thing they needed right then.

"As for the king...that's a little dramatic, don't you think? No one's been abandoned. He's the king, he's busy. It's not as if he gives that many public appearances; he hardly has the time," she insisted. She leaned back in her seat, glancing away from Iseult as she thought that predicament over. It wasn't as if the king could go out and do any prolonged public appearances. There was no telling what he might say or do. But maybe she could persuade him to do something brief, not far from the castle. At her side the whole time, of course.

"...I'll let him know of the people's concerns," she said finally. "Thank you, Iseult. And while I have you here, I was wondering if I might not be able to ask you to do something in addition to your usual duties, just during Samhain. It's a bit unorthodox, so you are free to decline it, but the request does come from the king."

[serafinadonovan]

medraultxevunial​:

-

The play began as night descended upon the city and the festival officially began, the actors conducted themselves appropriately considering the morbidity of the opening tale. Outside the theatre the cities were flooded with masked revelry as offerings were tossed into open flames and drunken dancers made a mockery of once sacred traditions. Every bit of Medrault wished to be away from here, away from the pomp and circumstance that came with court. It made him hate Arthur all the more, all this performative acceptance felt like little more than a slap in the face. 

Without revealing too much to the foreign knight Medrault merely shrugged, “He suffers the fate of all kings, heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Though only one of his father’s was known for the sharpness of their mind, and it was not Lot. “You give yourself too little credit, I’m sure. What would Arthur be without his marshall after all.” Medrault offered, “He’s fortunate to have you, considering you’ve seen so many of these festivals in your time.” The knight furthered, was the subtle barb traded with anyone else and he might have afforded himself a smirk, but instead he drew his glass towards his lips once more. “Worry yourself less about me,” Medrault offered, he tapped lightly at the gold bird-like mask across his face, “and perhaps more with those who use this night as an excuse to release their inhibitions.” 

---

Serafina laughed, light and airy, when Medrault made a slightly more cutting comment. Did he think he was being subtle? Adorable. Luckily, it wasn't something she was at all self-conscious about - few things were, to be fair. She waved a hand dismissively.

"Please, the king would get along just fine without me. It's not his knights or his advisors that have made him so great, after all." The praises rolled off her lips easily, even if they weren't as true as they might have once been. She still truly did believe that Arthur was a great king, regardless of what was now affecting him. She looked to Medrault as she spoke, as if searching for what he believed. Of course, the mask added even more difficulty.

"In any case, I can worry about you and the troublemakers of the night all at once. Worrying about everything is one of those skills that comes with being old, as I'm sure you'll find soon enough." She offered Medrault a sweet smile and pressed a hand against his shoulder, sharp nails brushing his shirt. It dropped quickly enough. "In any case, it's nice to have so many of the Knights of the Round together again. King Arthur's very pleased with the turnout."

[serafinadonovan]

cericadogan​:

who: @serafinadonovan​ where: Samhain

Ceri was never one to hold shame, she didn’t hide her monstrous ways or nature. Samhain was a weekend to relive all of her greatest highlights and greatest kills, ghosts that she had made walk among them. Howling hate and spewing misery, they visited the doorways of their loved ones and followed her through the streets. She avoided the burning fires, their fire fairies glowing towards the stars in the sky as she had a natural aversion. She was never seen too far from the forest and where the ocean ran, as it where she was chained and tethered to remain for all eternity. Where she stepped, water gathered leaving behind murky pools. To dry out near the fire could only spell disaster.

She had fresh blood on her from a recent killing, she enjoyed her gruesome ways. Spilling blood before their bones were tossed to the water, she didn’t hunger in the ways that others did but a certain thirst came upon her when the fresh drop of blood was spilled. Performers danced and sang and tried to distract the crowds. She saw a face in the crowd who seemed as if she knew more then the others. “It’s foolish to attempt to distract from the thinning veil, the monsters are here and a mere show isn’t going to avert their disasters.”

---

Serafina was caught off-guard by the sight of the creature that approached her, to say the least. She was certainly not a human, that much was clear from her blood-soaked clothing and the water pooling at her feet from an invisible source. One hand reached up to make sure that her mask was firmly fixed to her face, while the other reached for her sword. Cautiously, she took a step away from the crowd and the performers. The last thing she wanted was for the people of Camelot to catch sight of her and panic.

"And you would know a lot about monsters, would you?" she questioned, an eyebrow arching above her mask. She didn't take her hand off the hilt of her sword. "I think you misunderstand the point of Samhain, dear. We are not distracting ourselves from anything. We are celebrating the thinning of the veil and the return of our lost loved ones to this world."

She took a small step closer, lowering her voice. "If you've spilled the blood of a human within Camelot, it's my duty to have you imprisoned." Or rather, it was the watchmen's duty, but Serafina found that they tended to shrink away from fights with the more powerful magical beings that still resided within the city. Cowards, all of them. "I truly hope you have a good explanation."

[serafinadonovan]

llcrcan​:

++

A grin curled at the corner of his lips at her laugh; for as long as he knew her she was a hard worker. But, there was a chilling indifference that they both shared that Lorcán had found fascinating when he had first met the knight. Especially fascinating as the kings right-hand; watching her carefully the wolf wondered if she had at all changed or if her morals still lay dormant. “Of course,” he laughed along albeit a little forced - easy enough to hide under another swing of his brew.

The question was innocent enough, but he felt the weight of it. Scratching at the stubble on his neck, there was a brief moment where he considered telling the truth. “It’s familiar here; no other place beats the charisma of Camelot unfortunately.” offering a lopsided shrug, “I’ve been traveling,” the lie came easy and quick, “visiting places that could use my skill set.” clearing his throat he sat up straighter, “and what of you? don’t tell me anything’s changed.”

As much as a complement it was to be praised by her, Lorcán felt her comment like a knife in his gut. Never had he considered leaving Camelot to follow the Red Knight’s whims as a mistake; he made countless discoveries with the experiments he’d done. But had he stayed – “yeah, well maybe I should’ve stuck around. Although, I’m not sure I would enjoy working somewhere with you lurking around every corner,” he jested, that crooked grin returning. “perhaps one of these days you can put in a good word for me.” 

---

"Lurking!" Serafina echoed, pressing a hand to her chest like she was gravely offended. "My darling, I never lurk. That would be terribly unseemly. You would be blessed to work with me." She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink to hide the more genuine smile that had crept onto her lips.

"But no, no, nothing's changed with me, I've stayed in Camelot. The king needs my services here, as his marshal, and I am more than happy to serve," she explained. "I return to Seascann from time to time, of course, to visit family and tend to duties to my House. But truthfully, Camelot is growing on me." She pressed a finger to her lips.

She looked back down at her drink and her brows knitted together, as if she were considering something. When she looked back up toward Lorcán, her voice was a bit softer. "I could, you know. Put in a good word. The castle's physicians..." She clicked her tongue. "Well, they're aging and hardly up to date on the latest medical knowledge. They get paid too much. I'm sure a position will be opening up soon enough."

[serafinadonovan]

@efabeckett​

The Samhain festivities were in full swing and going smoothly - much to Serafina's relief. She'd worked hard to ensure that the festival would run as usual, to keep the people of Camelot happy and untroubled by the difficulties behind the scenes. Even now that the festival was ongoing, she found herself unable to relax. The watchmen were responsible for maintaining order during the festival - those lowly duties wouldn't fall to King Arthur's marshall - but she found herself keeping an eye out for trouble nevertheless. It would, after all, be the perfect time for some wretched Otherworld being to strike.

These were the thoughts running through her mind, even as she stood atop a table in a crowded alehouse. A lute at her side, she was singing a ballad about King Arthur's victories in battle; surrounding her, the tables had been cleared from the room to give people room to dance. Her performance had attracted quite of a bit of attention - she was one of Avalon's most famous bards, but she rarely had time for revelries these days. Normally, she would derive excitement and energy from the attention. Tonight, it only felt more draining. Perhaps because she'd been spending so much time putting on a show as it was.

When the ballad ended, she hopped off the table, making room for another bard. She paused only briefly to ensure her mask was still firmly secured to her face, then pushed through the crowd to order more ale. She made it to the counter, but when she lifted a hand to get the employee's attention, her arm bumped another patron's drink and sent it spilling over the counter. She bit back a curse as she turned to see who the victim was. Luckily, no one too important. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I would blame the fairies, but," she motioned at her mask. "Seems I can only blame the drink. Let me buy you another."

[serafinadonovan]

llcrcan​:

++

Although Camelot was his home, he never felt more like a stranger when walking the streets that now were now so foreign to him. Arriving just in time to see the beginning set up and excited buzzing of the upcoming festival. The streets had been packed with visitors and merchants setting up shop when he had arrived earlier, but now as the sun begun to sink behind buildings, the streets cleared. Lorcán was hardly noticed, his reputation long gone as the respectable doctor now hid himself under old clothes and sunken shoulders. “S’cuse me,” voice low as he made his way around a drunk pair exiting the tavern. The place was pretty busy, which was expected considering the amount of people in the city right now. Luck was sparse for the young doctor, but seeing a spot at the counter open up just as he walked in nearly brought a smile to his face. “Praise be.” he sighed under his breath grabbing the spot he put his coins on the hard surface and got himself, “strongest thing you got.”

Someone had approached, rather aggressively, shoving him and another lad out of the way to make room. That’s one way to do it. Taking another swing from his cup before lifting his gaze to meet the belligerent strangers familiar piercing eyes. His blood ran cold and throat went dry, “Serafina,” one of the strongest knights he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. How the fates decided them to meet again must’ve been some cruel joke. “I - I only just arrived a couple days ago actually.” clearing his throat he quickly took another swing of his ale. “I’m surprised to see you here, I thought you might be busy running the entire city.”

---

Serafina laughed, high-pitched and bell-like. Lorcán had no idea how close to the mark he was. "Oh dear, no. Lucky for all of us that that's still King Arthur's job. I do my part, though. But I still have time for a break now and again. Besides, Samhain is about to begin." She winked and took a sip of her own drink.

"What brought you back, what have you been doing?" She placed her drink down and shifted to face Lorcán properly. He really did seem different. Tired, maybe. Of course, he was several years older than the last time she'd seen him, so perhaps that was simply to be expected.

"Do you have work here?" Already, gears were turning in her mind, calculating how she might use this unexpected presence to her advantage. Her tone was almost coy as she said, "It was a shame, when you left. You were a brilliant physician. You could have gotten a position in the castle, had you wanted it."

[serafinadonovan]

marcellabelanades​:

“Ser Bedivere, I am so sorry.” She is indeed, it’s late, too late for a young lady to be out and about unsupervised. Marcella smiles at the knight anyway, her brightest, most proper smile as if such a thing is going to excuse the fact she’d practically ran into the knight. It’s not a situation she wants to be in, caught by a knight alone anywhere to begin with, not with her….Views. The Pendragon’s had persecuted her kind, the knights were not their king, but that didn’t make her any less wary of them. She’d met a few here and there, they spent time in town, she’d lived in Camelot a decent amount of time now. Bedivere was one of those and she had to admit, she was almost in awe of her. “I was on my way home from the theatre.” The forests, she’d been near the lake, the hemline of her dress was damp, dirty, but the dimly lit street hid it enough. @serafinadonovan​

---

"Oh!" Serafina stepped to the side quickly to avoid the girl who'd nearly crashed headfirst into her. Annoyance flickered through her — she couldn't understand people who didn't pay attention to their surroundings — but she didn't dare show it. Instead, she reached out and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder to steady her.

"That's alright, dear. Just be more careful next time," she advised. She took in the girl's appearance, head tilting to the side. "The theater, hm? Did you enjoy it?" If not, she'd have something to lord over Casper the next time she ran into him.

"Did you go to the theater alone?" she asked, the follow-up question occurring to her suddenly. It was late, for this young, unassuming girl to be out alone. "You should be more careful. Especially so close to Samhain; it's not safe to be out by yourself. Let me walk you home, at least."

[avalcnrp]

NAME. Serafina Donovan AGE & BIRTH DATE. 40 & August 10th, 750 CE GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/her RACE & CLASS. Human Bard OCCUPATION. Knight of the Round & Spymaster FACE CLAIM. Ruth Wilson

BIOGRAPHY

Serafina always knew she would become a Knight of the Round. Her father, strict and demanding, would have had nothing less. Serafina would not disappoint him. Even as a child, she worked to be the perfect bard. The perfect thief. A true Donovan at heart, made in Moira’s image, deceit has come to her with ease ever since she can remember.

None of which is to say she didn’t have competition. The House of Donovan is a large one, and she found herself thrust into rivalries with siblings and cousins. If she wanted to win her father’s attention, she had to be the best of the best. Of course, it never quite worked out that way. Even if she had excelled at everything she put her mind to, she would’ve earned little more than a single word of praise, which was a far cry from why she wanted.

Still. The House of Donovan is wealthy, built on stolen gold and the pillars of ancient Rome. Serafina never wanted for anything. If anyone were to ask, she would say she had a charmed childhood. And no one would ask, because her childhood is much less interesting than what came next.

Though she may not have been able to secure her father’s attention, she did catch the eye of the king. In her early twenties, she became a diplomat, a position secured on her family’s name alone. But Serafina was used to making herself stand out, so with a quick wit and fervent loyalty, she gained King Arthur’s trust — and, in time, his friendship. Even this was not enough for her. She didn’t want to coast along on her family’s name; she wanted to be more powerful, special in her own right.

She was twenty-five when she got her opportunity. The war with the Anglo-Saxons began, and Serafina was able to prove herself a loyal soldier and an skilled strategist. But more importantly, she was an excellent spymaster. Her diplomatic connections proved invaluable to winning the war, as they allowed for a network of eyes and ears all across Avalon and beyond. And under her command, members of her house were able to infiltrate enemy lines, uncovering key plans. But her scrutiny was hardly limited to the enemy. She turned her eyes inward, too, sniffing out anyone less than fully loyal to the king. She gained a reputation for loyalty, but in tandem, one for ruthlessness.

Finally, in recognition of her aid to King Arthur, she was knighted, and in time, made marshall and chief of militia. She has the power she’s always craved, and she delights in it. The war has ended, but her loyalty to King Arthur is no less fervent than it was at its height. If anything, she has only become more protective of the king as he’s aged. Everyone in Avalon knows she’ll do anything for him, no matter the cost. In recent years, she’s dedicated her talents to uncovering those who might want the power of Excalibur for themselves — and dealing with them as she sees fit. The nastier rumors whisper that she’s only so impassioned because, in true Donovan fashion, she hopes to steal that power for herself.

PERSONALITY

+ confident, steadfast, adventurous – ruthless, combative, distrustful

PLAYED BY ROWAN. EST. They/Them.

[serafinadonovan]

medraultxevunial​:

-

If that was their intention it was a curious one, considering the subject matter. “It should be entertaining, at any rate.” The druid pointed out as he drew his goblet to his lips once more, the two of them had never had any real confrontation. They’d fought together and sworn fealty to the same King, but Essetir had a history of conflict when Medrault’s grandfather’s Cenred and Uther still ruled opposite one another. King Lot had brokered for peace at the behest of Morgause, but a few decades of amicable relationships didn’t negate a history punctuated with tension. 

Still, Serafina was a Donovan, the marshall of Arthur’s militia, and the influential right hand of the crown. Just because she’d never expressed any particular dislike of him did not mean her eyes were not trained on him, Morgause’s scheming was extensive, but secrets had a way of traveling through stone walls. He knew better than most how even a spider could be made suspect. 

“My father extends his regards, but he was not able to make the trip, at the king’s pleasure my brothers and I travelled here in his stead.” Medrault offered, “Camelot is the crown jewel of Avalon, I look forward to seeing what the crown has put into Samhain.” It was a solemn time of year, sacred, but also dangerous. Fey and spirits were fond of their trickery, capricious in nature, Medrault intended to tread lightly over the next few days.  

---

Serafina nodded in agreement. "Of course it'll be entertaining. The theater in Camelot is excellent." Though it didn't compare to the theater in Seascann, and she wasn't at all biased in saying so. Everyone knew that all the best actors were in Seascann. Or rather, all of the best actors, apart from herself.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope all’s well," she said, brows pinched together in concern. Of course, she had already known that Lot wasn't in Camelot, and that Medrault and his brothers were. She had begun to puzzle out why exactly that was, too, but she felt was missing some pieces. Of course, she wouldn't ask Medrault outright. Instead, she simply said, "But it's very good to have you and your brothers join us for the festivities."

She smiled. "My first Samhain in Camelot was thrilling. Seascann's Samhain festival is lovely, too, of course, but they don't hold a candle to the way Camelot does it. And I know that the Crown has been working hard to ensure that this festival goes smoothly." She tilted her head. "Do be careful, though, not to get too carried away with the festivities."